


vanderlyle, vanderlyle

by themajorarcana



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Gen, and a lot of feelings put into drabbles, just a great amount of religious imagery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 07:17:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16236851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themajorarcana/pseuds/themajorarcana
Summary: "he is not really suprised - the programme that ordered him to search for her among the masses of men and machines perhaps never truly finished running. would not, will not. how to explain this? connor labels this question, and puts it away into a folder of his vast database-mind that has no name yet."





	1. baptism

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ConcerningConstellations](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConcerningConstellations/gifts).



> i am in D:BH hell. come, share the pain and disappointments with me if you want to. kudos and all my admiration for ConcerningConstellations for their Connor and Kara fic that is now in my numero uno fave in the fandom. this is dedicated to them, because they moved me immensely.

 

 

_Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean: wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow._

 

 

  
the thing wearing human clothes fools him for about twenty-five seconds, the time it takes an average human male to sprint down the stairs at rosa parks bus terminal and reach the exit. but there is no escape from here; and anyways, no human would have that look in their eyes. not in this city - that hunting, hunted kind of cold calculation, the ready to risk it all attitude.

  
so when he and the deviant lock eyes in the pouring rain, connor does what the piezoelectric battery pumped by the trillion of carbon nanotubes inside his artifical, synthetic cranium does best: he calculates the odds of each preconstructed scenario regarding the reaction of the other machine.

  
he knows she is doing the exact same thing.

  
incipiently, all ax400 models were designed to nurse and care. this, by definition, made it weaker. physically, like each android, it could easily endure long distances and extreme weather conditions all the same, but the child she has chosen to run away with and insisted on protecting - a malfunction like no other - would not tolerate the hardships that follow an escape in the pouring november rain, let alone the velocity needed for an escape like this; in the daylight, in an open field.

  
because the child simply _cannot_ take it. they are both small, yes - the android does not reach five feet five; and the child is young. maybe they could have hidden, had they not been spotted so absolutely. they could have stayed hidden; stayed in what they considered safe. the anonimity, the namelessness, the walking between what can and cannot be.   
the erasure of labels.

  
but something must be rusting within his circuits, for connor has to cancel the preconstruction process. he has almost, it seems, followed the rabbit down the hole ( _//memo_ : _the [little girl's name] is [williams, alice]_ ). he is back in the rain, in the motel, staring dead in the bright blue eyes of the deviant, who straightens her spine in the shadows. her hair is brightwhite ( _//analysis: [white] is a [tactical disadvantage_ ]). behind her, a sicklypale figure emerges, her mouth agape. williams, alice. she is in what humans would call a shock.

  
connor looks back at the deviant (kara, he remembers. its name is kara. the child is alice) who licks her lips, all anticipation.

  
he still has not told hank anything, though he is but two feets away, shivering as the downpour cleanses them.

  
_//analysis_ : [symbolism] of [water]. clarity, cleansing, new beginnings. he is not very sure why he looked this up all the sudden, except he knows now and does not like what he has found. in his discomfort, or as to tear his mind from it, he finally opens his mouth.

  
"lieutenant!"

  
his shout is drowned by a thunder. the policemen turn anyway, and so does connor, back to find the android and the girl holding hands, their shapes a haze in the waterfall around. the deviant shakes her ( _itsitsitsitsitsits_ ) head. there is something very primal, very human in the way she clenches her jaws.

  
it is useless to run.

  
the ax400 model does it anyway.


	2. confirmation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "oh" he says. the remnant of his strength seems to dissipate, and he rubs his hands together. he cannot feel the cold so it must be a nervous tick. "kara."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can't stop, won't stop. leave me some comments if you would like - i would like to hear what you think :-)

_We almost always forgive those we understand._

 

 

 

jericho is a quiet canvas around them – an avalon, she thinks, the name escaping from a fairytale that is stored in her database – and it is a welcomed transition from the mayhem they escaped from. still, the sudden, shocking peace is delicate. feeble. kara dares not hope yet. she has had one unpleasant surprise too many in the past.

and yet. maybe it is the sheer novelty of it, or maybe it comes with merely being alive, walking on the unordinary pathways, but there are better-tasting surprises everyday.

for instance: the calluses on markus’ hands don’t mend as he carves and builds and forms a new table with dozens of chairs from the finest of steels.

”stainless” he explains to kara one evening as she reports the missing androids, as she lists the ones they need to hide or need to house or need to help.

when she presents him the names of their dead, she finds she cannot look him into the eyes and instead, looks down; down, to the reflective surface of that finely crafted table, all new and all _whole_. her reflection in it is shockingly bright and blinding. hopeful, even.

as she looks up, she finds markus both serious and smiling. she finds that it has been easier to understand such contradictions since she took alice’s hands in the house she does not want to name.

_and oh_. the surprises and the wonders.

like alice wanting to learn how to sing, and north _knowing_ how to, her sharp features softer in the light of the evening when she is with them. when she is with alice.

”you gave your name yet?” north murmurs as alice runs to find the battered monopoly board game josh smuggled home as a gift. the name of some properties are illegible, but they make do. alice is inventing new names, new realities as they play.

”to what?” panic roses within her in less than a nanosecond. she does not want to promise anything in the long run. jericho may be sanctuary, but it is built on a powder keg of ideologies. she does not want alice and her to be here when it explodes. and canada is still a viable option, after the cold touch of winter eases its grip on the state.

north senses her fear and her lips turn thin. she might like alice, but she must think kara a coward. kara does not blame her. the definition of taking action is very much different in their heads.

still, north's voice is not unkind when she answers.

”connor is teaching how to imitate proper cursive. in case someone needs it in the future. we can even choose our own surnames, if we want.”

the flashback of her own clumsy, hurried writing at the motel's reception floats back in. she doubts she can get away with something like that again. at the border, for example. she shudders what the officials would do after beholding her cramped loops. and how in the world will she help alice learn, in case she needs it? she has never even asked her whether she can read, let alone write.

" _alright_ " she hears herself saying, though her voice comes as through a filter, as a dream. she has seen connor here and there in jericho, haggard and pale, mostly conferring with markus, then disappearing again. it is safe to say she has not sought out his company. "alright."

"you met him before?" north asks, watching her face carefully.

kara thinks of their nigh-death experience on the highway, his grip on her shoulders, the smells and sounds tasting vile around them. it has been a month or two now. and even if she shudders at the memory, she does not fold herself smaller like she used to.

north does not press her further. this, she notes, is also surprising.

days fly by. markus has given her smaller assignments since they arrived here, talking and helping some of the newcomers, finding them places and aid josh in listing what they lack - as always, mostly android parts, new ones - and through rose, she has been in contact with androids from cleveland and hamilton.

the holomessages she receives are short, angry and desperate. her answers are short, faux-calm and factual. most of the neighbouring cities seek contant help and instant escape; something neither kara, nor markus can promise. and though kara does not like saying no to people in great need of support, she hates lying and fake-reassurance more. they simply do not have the resources to hide any more people presently.

at the end of the week, north smuggles alice some toys she has promised while kara learns to repair smaller defects and system failures from lucy. then she realizes that albeit she is making herself useful, she is stalling for time.

lucy guesses her thoughts before she can order them in place. she is getting used to it.

"he is here" lucy's hands are very cold as she touches her hands and turns her towards the stairs. and there, alone and thinner than she remembers him, stands connor, with new holes in his jacket and some dust on his pants. he is staring into one of the markus-made fires, lost in thoughts.

alright, she thinks and straightens her shoulders. she has danced her dance with him already, and there is no need to worry anymore since they are on the same side. they want the same things. don't they?

it is only thanks to the light of the fire that the former deviant hunter has some color in his face. even the carefully placed moles under his eyes have lost some of their darker hue. suddenly, she remembers the rumours around the camp, the ones that murmur about connor acting as a double agent and how he serves as the main source of intel between jericho and cyberlife. looking at him right here and now, with lanky fatigue on his boyish face, the thought seems laughable. but kara has seen enough to know that appearances are deceitful.

and for a moment, she does not care about her fear or his face. she needs a tangible truth, like inkblotted writing on a piece of paper, or forming a name with one's mouth.

"connor" her voice is low, but she feels a defiance that makes her giddy. he jumps a bit at the sound, alarmed. maybe it is the familiarity of her voice, or the strangeness of his name in another's mouth.

_here_ , she thinks, _i named you. now, name **me** back, if you dare._

he turns towards her very slowly. his eyes are almost black as he stands in from of her, his back facing the light.  
  
" _oh_ " he says, he breathes. the remnant of his strength seems to dissipate, and he rubs his hands together. he cannot feel the cold so it must be a nervous tick. "kara."

_king and queen of cantelon - how many miles to babylon?_ she remembers out of nowhere, knowing deep in the hardwires of her thirium pump that it is a nursery rhyme, meant to be sung for children afraid of the dark. and here, half in the dark, half in the light, as kara watches connor and his shaking hands, she feels something she would not call anger. it is a relief, of some sort. 

he opens his mouth to say something else, but decides against it. jericho continues to roar around them, world so dynamic, while he dares not even blink in fear of scaring her. or so she thinks.

_will I get there by candle-light_ , she wonders; and then: to where? she searches the answer in connor's lost face, his sharp features and learnt movements. will he get there with her, to that place of wonders - arcadia, babylon, jericho. etcetera. and the list goes on.

kara inhales. connor exhales. or is it the other way around?

"i need your help" she says. there is a sort of finality in her voice.

"oh" he echoes. and does not correct the repetition in his mind, because _theretherethere_ , on kara's mouth, a smile is forming.


	3. penance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when i said random trash of drabbles... i didn't lie.

_And her light stretches over salt sea equally_

 

 

somewhere halfway amidst the epiphany of his own rebirth and the ending of the world, connor spots kara in a dilapidated and dusty church. he is not really surprised - the programme that ordered him to search for her among the masses of men and machines perhaps never truly finished running. would not, will not. _how to explain this?_ connor labels this question, and puts it away into a folder of his vast database-mind that has no name yet.

  
_//note: irony_ \- her hair gives her away that soft halo light behind the grime and the smoke he mirrors with his own disheveled self. when he approaches, his movements are careful and slow. finally, a choice he can call his own. and as he lowers to face them, he sees that she remembers. remembers him. oh, and her eyes are sharp again, the blue irises leadlike and unforgiving.

  
she tightens her arms protectively around alice's sleeping form. the tautness of her sinewy body, the ache and the awareness slipping through. he notices, with some surpressed pride, that she does not bother to hide these signs anymore. she is more alive than not. more alive than _him_.

  
if he were braver man, or rather, a man at all, he would kneel down to her feet, show the lines of his palms. a confession. a task most urgent. somehow, he does not doubt she would listen.

  
"i am sorry i put your lives in danger" he would say. his words would be clumsy, but she would accept them anyway.

  
but he is neither brave, nor a man, so he simply walks away - to find markus and cover the sight of her face with new input. it is a tedious task not to simply sit down on the cold hard stones and attempt to memorize the tender lines of her face.

  
_//research later_ , connor orders himself as he walks away,  _synonyms for lovely_.

  
the thought does not give him a headache like it did the first time hank touched his shoulders and he had to - no, wanted to - look up all the synonyms for _friend_. he discarded the order then. he does not do it now.

  
the synthetic walls around his thirium pump regulator shiver and shimmer. it is not an unpleasant phenomenon. he does not understand this either. 


	4. anointing of the sick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://detroit-become-human.fandom.com/wiki/Biocomponent 
> 
> Connor and Kara have two compatible biocomponents. Just saying.

  
_Is love a wound which deepens_   
_as it dreams?_

 

  
The first thing Kara noticed was the sea of blue. A river of trails, stretching from entrance A to Markus’ room in the stern storage.

  
Blue was, supposedly, the most human color – given its ratio in nature (mostly due to water’s dominance on earth) and its calming feature (most probably due to its 670 thz frequency, biologically meant to please the human eyes that was designed to operate optimally between 500 and 700 thz.).

  
Kara also knew, not from her internal databanks, but from a simpler online scan, that almost half of the human population has listed blue as their favorite color (forty-eight percent, a statistic steady since 1936); and that the further an object is in nature, the bluer it seems, no matter the default hue.

  
But the blue that stained North’s hands as she asked her, in a strained voice, to please come quickly and leave Alice with Simon for just a moment – then the blue on the corridor which would evaporate within an hour or two – no, that was far from natural or pleasing to the eye.

  
She didn't ask anything. Didn't dare to. As she followed North, all she felt was some serene acknowledgment, as if she was outside of her body, events happening in their own, premeditated motion.

  
“It’s not pretty.” North's voice was composed, but very low as they were nearing the door, tactfully closed, bright blue all over. “We thought you might know someone who has the biocomponents needed.”

  
She was referring to the list; the long list of their dead - names which Kara has memorized from heart by now.

  
“Have you told Connor?” She was surprised to find her voice composed. Steady, even.

  
North seemed taken aback.

  
“What are you talking about?”

  
They both halted; the storage door but a leap away.

  
“But I thought- ” Kara said, confused. “Isn’t it Markus?”

  
North narrowed her mouth into an ugly thing, full of pity. And Kara's heart fell several inches, where her stomach should have been.

  
"How bad?" she asked, her voice truly faltering then.

  
It was childish, but she felt the need to know. Know whether they would go inside that room to help with the wounds or to help with the grief.

  
"See for yourself" North said, and opened the door before Kara.

  
If she had been human, she thought she would have fainted by the sight.

  
But alas, she was made shrewdly, for only her perception of the outer world faltered. Time slew down - movements painfully sluggish. It was not unsimilar to the feeling of her awakening, when she broke through her programming, the coding and the chains, for Alice. That also felt like an eternity. And Kara remembered how there was a sharpness after, like lightning, from being reborn to something alive and aching.

  
As time narrowed, Kara noted the man talking to Markus - though their voices came through as an echo, an afterthought of a sound - and because she must have been in shock, she didn't even try to decipher their murmured conversation. Nevermind North's warning and the deep breath before she crossed the threshold. She was slow and afraid.   
But even through the filter, it was obvious that the man talking to their leader was definitely human - big coat, pale face, gray hair and light eyes that water easily. Perhaps because of the prolonged drinking, or the ice on the boat, or maybe since the scene itself was deeply emotive and his body needed his release.

  
Kara knew this man with warm and sad eyes. From the cooling blood on his coat to the frown on his bushy eyebrows, this man couldn't be anyone else but Hank. He was exactly like Kara imagined him as Connor talked and talked and talked about him and them and the investigations. And yes - he seemed just as compassionate as described, only semi-listening to Markus. The other half of his attention was on the table in the middle where Connor was laid, clad in blue; shivering and open.

  
It was hard to tell the severity of the damage - there was a lot of thirium outside of his RK800 body and that couldn't be good. The liquid must have seeped out through the hole in his chest, carved with something like a blunt box-cutter. Still, his thirium pump, now visible, was active and vigorous inside the cavity. Connor's LED, a peaceful blue, like the halo of his blood around him, was whirring in tandem with the rise and fall of his chest.

  
Kara knew it was not oxygen Connor wanted, but how the android body imitated a cycle in order to repair and clear some internal errors via exascale computing. After a quick, general scan, Kara concluded that Connor simply switched into his own dormant state.

  
Time rewarped itself into reality. Relief overcame her, a slap to her face.

  
"...like sleeping" she heard Markus say, but Hank's face remained oblivious. He still couldn't tear his eyes away from Connor for more than a second or two.   
Before she could, however, assess the situation properly, North was already heading straight to the table, courageous, where Kara was not. The other was already clinging to her hand, hauling her as she stormed towards the others.

  
"Hank, this is Kara." There was no real finesse as she pushed her before herself to meet Hank face to face. "Maybe she can help."

  
A strange shadow of recognition travelled across the officer's face.

  
"I know you" then he corrected himself, astonished. "How the fuck did you survive on that highway?"

  
Something chilly ran over her body. But the memory wasn't as awful as it had been some weeks ago.

  
"Luck" she answered evenly, remembering Alice's face, her own fears and Connor, who got unlucky this time. Her eyes automatically darted to his silent body on the table. "What happened to his chest?"

  
Hank looked deeply uncomfortable. When he spoke, his face was half hidden behind his hands, as if ashamed.

  
"He asked me to- " he began but couldn't finish, not did he have to. They all understood. It seemed to Kara that Markus and North have already heard the story, but it still made both of them shudder.

  
Because what would make a person like Connor ask Hank to cut his chest open with the nearest Home Depot tool?

  
Markus put his hands around North's shoulders who instinctively leaned into his touch. There was something utterly serene about him - in moments like these, even Kara, with a history full of betrayals, found in her to trust Markus unconditionally.

  
"We scanned him" he said, addressing Hank. "He seems fine."

  
"Like fuck he is" the older man spit back. Ah. Now Kara understood why North wanted her here. Hank was agitated and the two androids needed a third, seemingly impartial party to convey that everything was alright.

  
She tried to interfere, but Hank kept on rambling.

  
"He seemed downright terrified when he arrived at my place. Kept going about Cyberlife knowing about his deviancy and wanting to deactivate him."

  
Kara's jaw was sewn shut. Markus face turned stonehard.

  
"That's impossible. This was planned down to the second."

  
"Now wait just a minute here" Hank seemed to steel himself for a second, eyes flashing. "What was so fucking well planned here? 'Cause last time I checked my partner is bleeding out on a shitty table with no backup organs or whatever."

  
"No, listen. Connor knew the stakes here - "

  
"There were only stakes here" Hank said, pointing his finger to Markus. "You're telling me now that you sent him alone in a pit full of liars and murderers who saw him as a number on a list to check."

  
He made a step towards Markus, but North didn't even give the man a chance to move more. She had already stepped in front of Markus and had her gun trained on the officer.

  
They all froze.

  
"Well, you are from the same pit" said North, voice all edge. "You could easily have stabbed him as well. And now you are just waiting for Cyberlife, or the police or whoever paid you the most."

  
For the other two, it was not at all obvious just how insulting this was to Hank. The color in his face drained out in less than a human heartbeat.

  
"Have you lost your damn mind?" his voice was strained, as if he was choking on something. Kara would have found it funny were the situation not so alarmingly tragic.

  
"North" she said softly when she saw the placating hand Markus put on her shoulders. "Let's explain to him, there is no-"

  
"Revision 040" a familiar voice cut them off from behind. "Reset memory. Check. System initialization. Check. "

  
All was forgotten. There was a collective sigh of relief.

  
"Connor-" Hank said, all cheerful. He rushed to the table and grabbed one of the android's hands.

  
”Check_sum biocomponent unit number 1995_r.” 

  
But something was wrong. Kara was the first to notice, because Markus was still smiling and North sat down, relaxed.

  
Connor's voice was distorted; all mechanical tint and progress modules.

  
”Error. Query for ins-ins-ins-instigation." His voice glitched. "Error 1500A89 detected. Switch and repair requested immediately. Please do find the nearest Cyberlife store. Host detected: code AA26. switch and repair requested - ”

  
Slowly, but surely, it dawned on them.

 

This was not Connor awakening. This was the android's last attempt to stay alive.

  
”What the fuck is happening?” This was Hank eyeing Markus again. But he couldn't answer. Just like Kara, he stood motionless, rooted to the ground with horror. ”Connor, snap out of it, you hear?”

  
Connor just kept on enumerating. His eyes, though open, did not move. Nor did his chest anymore.

  
True, sinking terror caught Kara this time. She didn't know how, but she made her way to the table at last. Fear made her bold. It was always like this.

  
She ran a scan on him again - his temperature was dropping fast and the he was gradually deactivating his skin to save energy on possible repairs. It was futile though - the biocomponent he needed was the 1995_r, that is, a filter of a sort. Without that, the virus detected could not exit his system.

  
”He is switching to base mode.” she heard herself say. Her heart was shaking, but her voice came out, suprisingly, as quite even.

  
And once again, she could feel and imagine, rather than see, Hank’s stare, void of any kind of recognition.

  
”He is going into android shock.” this came out much more softly. Gently.

  
And for the very first time, as Hank walked to be by her side, he truly, really looked at her. It was a strange feeling. As he measured Kara, she saw reason returning to his face.

He was back, the sharp man from Connor's stories, who saw through irrelevant happenings and dishonesty.

  
"What is error 15.... whatever he said?"

  
"Something has corrupted one of his biocomponents...his organ." Markus was careful this time. "If we are lucky then we have one on stock here."

  
A hopeful glance at Kara was all North threw. She shook her head as a response.

  
"No need to check" she already had her answer ready, and put one hand on Connor's thirium stained one. "There is one 1995 component ready to give."

  
Hank _actually_ jumped a bit.

  
"I will fetch it!" sang North, letting go of Markus, whose face became the sun again. Kara stopped her with a look.

  
"No need." she put her free hand on her stomach. finally, she let the sadness creep into her voice. "It is already here."

  
The officer next to him deflated at once.

  
"No!" North looked shaken. She still had the gun in her hands, Kara noted with some tinge of fear. Lest she does something unthinkable, she tried to use her most calming voice. It was something of a reflex by now.

  
"North. It won't hurt - " she steeled her expressions as she saw Markus trying to interrupt. "It will be okay, we will share. All my other components are intact, so we will have, how much time until shutdown?"

  
Markus calculated it in less than a second.

  
"49 hours, 5 minutes and 4 seconds" he furrowed his brows. "Connor would calculate in your production date and stress levels, but I wouldn't - "

  
He didn't finish the sentence and there it was, that blackhole-like need for Connor now, his insight and coolness. Kara couldn't even find her seat on the table next to his lying form without her hands shaking. She felt disappointingly inadequate.

  
Hank looked like how she felt. She caught him staring.

  
"It's a pretty vital organ, right?" his voice was low. Kara let out a small laugh.

  
"It's like your liver." she confessed, trying not to let Markus open his mouth and try to convince her not to do it. In her mind, the shadow of a memory hit her - Lucy explaining basic organ transfers.

  
She turned to Markus.

  
"I need some kind of knife"

  
Bur the android rebel-leader didn't move. The utter disapproval on his face told her his answer. But he let Hank hand her a Swiss knife of a sort.

  
Kara locked eyes with North. She was still holding the gun in her iron grip, perhaps as a defense mechanism.

  
"Don't let Alice in here." something was prickling her eyes. "I will find her after."

  
As she thrust the knife in her navel, she saw the irony in her act. _I am stabbing myself a bellybutton_. She smiled at the notion, probably looking like a fool. Hank turned away; but North was there helping her hands to navigate around the wires within her techno-abdomen.

  
"I am seeing the matching component" this was Markus, very reluctant, but finally helping. "Here."

  
He didn't touch Kara. Nor did North anymore. This was something very intimate, Kara, fishing out the fist-sized piece of chrome-colored pseudoorgan from the heat of her layers. It was a very strange sight. The opening in her abdomen was smoking, and the 1995_r was colored in blue, wires hanging from it. It reminded her of a fountain streaming water.

  
Life, like water, was escaping her, it seemed.

  
ERROR_COMPONENT_MISSING, she saw from the corner of her eyes. Her body was throwing a tantrum. But a part of her soul - could she call it that? - felt oddly satisfied.

  
"Give me his cord" Her voice was rough, though she didn't use it much. Her hand stopped trembling.

  
There was a loud knock on the door.

  
Markus and North looked at each other.

  
"Stay" said Markus to North. "I will deal with this."

  
Before he went outside, he touched Kara's hand briefly.

  
"We will get you a new component. I swear it."

  
North followed him with his eyes before turning to Kara.

  
"Connor was very precise" she commented, a fleeting smile touching her lips. It didn't reach her eyes. "All the cords are visible."

  
"You surprised?"

  
Hank collected himself well enough to see and help this time.

  
He looked green and his voice was gruff, but he found Connor's _vox iungo_ nevertheless. The cord ended in receptacles, compatible with Kara's organ.

  
"Care to distract me by telling me what the fuck am I holding?" Hank asked.

  
"This organ is like a powerbank" she said. "Connor cut it out because it was corrupted."

  
"Right" said Hank, as he watched Kara searching for a right and remaining place for Connor's cord. "The virus. Wait - "

  
He grabbed at Kara's hand just before she could connect Connor to her organ.

  
"What is it?" her voice wasn't angry, but shocked, rather. North swore loudly behind them - Markus took her gun away as he went away.

  
"If he is corrupted, you will get the virus too!"

  
She felt her expression ease.

  
"Yes." she hold out her index finger to shush the human. "But Connor is clever and probably got rid of the majority of the virus by channeling it onto his filter" she nodded towards her organ. "And he had to get rid of it, so that the virus would not return. But traces remained and we need to purify his system. And for that - " she finished, leaning back to the table. "He needs a filter."

  
And not just any, but mine. But she didn't say that, for it was unimportant. It was lucky they were competent. Some would call it fate.

  
Hank was still trying to find excuses.

  
"We might not find another organ."

  
Hank used 'we' - she was touched.

  
"Yes."

  
"Kara's prototype is old - no new organs in the market." chirped in North. "But the graveyard has its potential."

  
"See" she smiled and it was kind, she hoped. Calming. "No need to be afraid."

  
Finally, Hank let go of her hands. Kara finally saw a free curve on her filter that would be enough for Connor's cord to fit.

  
"You might die with him." he said, sounding rather beaten than convinced. Kara was surprised to see that Hank was crying. But it was okay. She was crying too.

  
"Yes." she said very lowly, almost as a continuation of breath. She looked over to Connor, whose mouth was open and who was rigid with fighting this internal battle, who had become cold for a while and would become dead if Kara didn't do anything.

  
"Yes" she repeated.

  
Then she joined him to herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> vox iungo meand power connector, made by Cyberlife :-)


End file.
